


If You'll Be My Star, I'll Be Your Sky

by cyberiandemons



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Ashes Ivy and Brian are present but not enough that I wanted to tag them, Autistic Nastya Rasputina, Background Nastya/Aurora, Background Tim/Bertie, Canon Temporary Character Death, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Poly Mechs - Freeform, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, genderfluid gunpowder tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25435153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberiandemons/pseuds/cyberiandemons
Summary: “I don’t want to die,” the man on the table gasped out, voice weak. Nastya inhaled sharply, mind catapulted back to when she had said those same words to Carmilla centuries ago. “Please…”Resolve settled into her heart. “You’re not going to,” she whispered, even as his grip went limp and she heard his heart rate flat line.—An exploration of the relationship between Gunpowder Tim and Nastya Rasputina, starting from the moment when a battered lifepod is pulled into the Aurora.
Relationships: Gunpowder Tim/Nastya Rasputina, The Mechanisms Ensemble/The Mechanisms Ensemble
Comments: 47
Kudos: 91





	1. I Will Not Ask You Where You Came From

**Author's Note:**

> AKA "I'm trying to make people care about the ship that currently only my fiance and I care about". Tim/Nastya is a good ship, I promise! I hope that this fic gets at least a few people on board the Tim/Nastya train.
> 
> A quick note: Tim is genderfluid in this fic and alternates he/him and she/her pronouns. He's using he/him in this chapter, but will use she/her in some of the upcoming chapters. I also want to note that I know a lot of people headcanon Nastya as a lesbian; personally, I headcanon her as bisexual, so that's what she is in this fic. Rest assured that she's still very much into women and her relationship with the Aurora is still present (though mostly in the background). 
> 
> Fic title is from "Boats & Birds" by Gregory and the Hawk; chapter title is from "Like Real People Do" by Hozier.

Nastya stood in the bay of the Aurora, staring at the life pod they had just pulled in. She glanced over at Jonny’s head on the ground next to her, staring up at her with a cocky grin. “Shut up,” she muttered, rolling her eyes and walking over the pod.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

Nastya ignored him, walking over and pressing a button on the side of the pod. The doors slowly slid open, revealing a young man laying on the ground. He was dressed in some kind of military uniform and looked like he was physically a few years older than her—maybe early- or mid-20s. As she looked at his eyes, she winced. It had been a while since she had seen something that bad. 

As oxygen rushed into the pod, he let out a loud gasp and jerked up slightly. Nastya let out an alarmed yelp before rushing forward, kneeling down next to him. “I wasn’t expecting you to be alive,” she muttered. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” he wheezed out. 

Nastya snorted as she checked his pulse. Weak, and getting weaker. She frowned, then began to stand. His hand clutched at her wrist with a surprisingly strong grip for someone in his state. “Ah, uh…” She hesitated for a moment before reaching out and gently stroking his hair, the way Ashes would stroke hers when trying to comfort her. “It’s going to be okay,” she said, though she didn’t entirely believe it. “I’m going to go get help, okay? I’ll come back.”

The man nodded, grip going limp.

Nastya stood and jogged out of the lifepod, resisting the temptation to kick Jonny’s head like a soccer ball. She elected to ignore him instead, rushing into the room that passed for the Aurora’s living room. “Brian!”

Brian looked up from his banjo. “Yes?”

“I need your help, please.”

Brian nodded, following her back to the bay. Nastya led him into the life pod, gesturing to the man on the ground. Brian winced. “What happened to this poor guy?”

“Long story. Can you carry him to Carmilla’s lab? I’m not strong enough to lift him.”

Brian’s eyes widened. “Nastya… Nastya, you’re not going to—” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “I just—I’m considering it. I don’t know. Will you help me, please?”

A beat passed. “Yeah,” Brian said. “Yeah. C’mon, then.” He bent down, gently scooping up the man. The man let out a small, pained whine. Nastya winced.

As she followed him out of the pod, she glanced down at Jonny’s head on the ground. “What did you say this guy’s name was?”

“I dunno. Tom or something?”

“Right.” She walked past him. 

“Hey! Hey, bring me! I wanna watch!”

Nastya rolled her eyes and doubled back to grab him, holding him as far from her body as she could. As soon as they reached the lab, Nastya set him down on the counter and grimaced, wiping her hands off on a towel lying nearby. She turned and stared at the row of lab coats hanging neatly on their hooks, each a bit dusty but otherwise clean. 

As she stood, she felt a comfortingly heavy metal hand come down on her shoulder. She leaned into it and tried to breathe deeply. “Nastya… are you sure about this?”

Nastya laughed. “No. I’m not.” She turned away from the wall, nudging Brian’s hand off and walking over to the man who now rested on one of the surgical tables. “Okay, uh…” she muttered to herself. “I know how to do this. Okay…” She began attaching monitors to him, monitoring his heart rate and oxygen levels. As the machines flared to life, she grimaced at the numbers she saw. 

Something tugged on her wrist, and she looked down to see that the man had gripped onto her again. She knelt down next to him, looking at his pale face and his poor, ruined eyes. 

“I don’t want to die,” he gasped out, voice weak. Nastya inhaled sharply, mind catapulted back to when she had said those same words to Carmilla centuries ago. “Please…” 

Resolve settled into her heart. “You’re not going to,” she whispered, even as his grip went limp and she heard his heart rate flat line. She stood, grabbing a hair tie from her pocket and pulling her hair back into a small ponytail before striding over to the row of lab coats and pulling one on over her jeans and turtleneck. 

Nastya looked over to Brian, and the protests that seemed to have been on his lips died down as he saw the look in her eyes. He sighed. “Okay. Let me help you.”

“Thank you.” Nastya bent down to one of the cabinets, digging around for a moment before pulling out a dusty old binder filled with laminated pages containing all of the good doctor’s notes. She looked over to Brian, trying to calm her racing heart. They nodded at each other. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

Tim slowly woke to a pitch black room. Panic rushed through him—when would the next attack come? Was somebody standing over him right now, prepared to shoot him? Was he about to be assaulted with gas or heat? 

After a moment, he came into awareness enough to realize that he was laying on some kind of bed, not on the cold, hard ground of the tunnels that ran just under the surface of the moon. Tim took in several long, deep breaths and tried to calm himself enough to take full stock of the situation. He was laying on some kind of uncomfortable mattress and clothed in what felt like a thin gown. There was something stuck into his arm—an IV?—and a few sensors stuck on his chest. After a moment, he realized there was a faint, gentle beeping sound to his left. He must be in a hospital, then. 

That didn’t explain why the lights were off. He scrunched up his brow, thinking. As he did, he felt something move over his face. Bandages. The lights weren’t off, he just had bandages over his eyes. He grunted and slowly moved his hands up towards his face.

Light, delicate hands with calloused fingertips gripped his wrists. “Careful,” came an accented voice from above him. “Let me do it, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Tim’s brow furrowed. The woman sounded very Russian, with a hint of English. Not what he was expecting, but hey, he wasn’t one of those pricks who was going to judge a qualified medical professional just because she had been born outside of the U.K. He let her lower his hands, dropping them back down to his side. “What was your name? Jonny wasn’t sure.”

“Tim,” he said, voice coming out somewhat hoarse. He coughed. “Sorry, could I get some water?”

“Oh, sure. One sec.” He heard footsteps walking away from him. As she walked away, he could hear the annoyance in her voice as she said, “I can’t believe you got his name wrong.”

“‘Tom’ is close!” came another voice, and Tim jumped slightly as he recognized that dick he used to get drunk with (and had, on more than one occasion, fallen into bed with).

“Jonny?”

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

Tim took in several slow, measured breaths. “How are you… alive?”

He could _hear_ the grin in Jonny’s voice as he spoke. “Remember, Tim? I already told you. I’m immortal.”

Tim let out a short laugh. “But that—there’s no way that’s _real._ ”

“Oh, just you wait ‘til you see me now.”

The woman sighed, sharp and annoyed. “Okay, Jonny, you’re being annoying. I’m kicking you out.” Rapid footsteps sounded, followed by the opening of a door.

“Hey, I’m the captain, you can’t—!” Then there was a sound like some kind of heavy ball hitting and then rolling on the floor, accompanied by a loud groan from Jonny. The woman sighed and closed the door before walking back over to Tim.

“First mate,” she muttered. Then, to Tim, “Sorry about that. Here’s your water.”

Tim took the glass from her, chugging the entire glass in a matter of moments (and only spilling a little bit on himself). He handed the glass back to the woman. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She sighed. “Alright, uh… I want to warn you, first. Your original eyes, they, ah… they weren’t salvageable.” Tim’s heart sank. Then the woman chuckled a little, sounding sheepish. “So I, ah. I built you new ones! I hope they work.” 

“Oh, shit. Okay.” Tim took in several slow, deep breaths as the woman slowly unwrapped the bandages. 

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

The bandages came off. Tim blinked several times, adjusting to the light. He looked around the room. His vision was definitely a bit dimmer than before, and colors seemed more muted, but he’d definitely take it over not seeing at all. 

“How are they?” Tim turned to his side and took in the woman next to him. She was bending over, but definitely tall—he’d guess at least as tall as him. Her hair was a bright, vibrant blue that accented her eyes, and she was staring at him with no small amount of anxiety written on her face. The thought that she was beautiful came to his mind, followed immediately by intense, stomach-churning guilt as he thought of Bertie. The woman’s frown deepened. “Tim?”

“Oh, uh—” Tim blinked, trying to shove the guilt away. “They’re great. Thank you.” 

A relieved grin lit up her face. “Oh, good! I was so worried. I’ve made biomechanical body parts before, but—uh…” Tim frowned as the woman’s pale cheeks turned dark silver. It almost looked like she was blushing, if blood was grey instead of red. “Well. Let’s just say they weren’t for seeing.” 

“... Right.” He blinked a few more times, still getting adjusted to his new vision. “Sorry, what was your name?”

“Nastya Rasputina. Or…” She sighed. “Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, technically. But I really prefer Nastya.”

Tim blinked, head jerking back. “Like… the princess?”

Nastya groaned. “Oh, god, do they know about that where you’re from, too? Ugh. Uh, yes. Technically. I really don’t like talking about it, though.”

“Uh… right.” Tim took in a deep breath. When they covered the Romanovs in his ancient history class in university, they touched on the Anastasia Romanova imposters that had cropped up in and around Russia in the 1900s. He had never considered that somebody would actually attempt to pretend to be her over 3,000 years after the end of her natural life. Still, Nastya had just saved his life, so he figured it was polite to humor her delusion. “Sure you are. Nastya it is, then.” 

“Thank you.” She sighed. “So, ah… about what Jonny was saying earlier. About immortality.”

“Yeah.” Tim let out a short, somewhat manic laugh. “There’s no way that’s real, right? He had to be fucking with me. There has to be some other explanation for how he’s alive.”

Nastya started at him for a moment, then turned and began walking to one of the counters at the edge of the room. “One second, please.”

“What—?” Nastya held up a finger, signaling for him to stop talking. He did. She returned a moment later, holding a scalpel in her left hand. Tim looked up at her, brow furrowed, as she rolled up one of the sleeves of her turtleneck. She gestured for Tim to look down at her arm; as he did, he nearly jerked back in shock. He stared for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. There was a port embedded in Nastya’s wrist—the kind you would plug a computer cord into. “What the hell?”

Nastya blinked at him, genuine confusion on her face. “What’s wrong?” Tim gestured to the port. She looked at it, brow furrowing. “What about it? It’s just my port.” She looked back up, and they stared at each other for a moment. Understanding lit up her face as she snapped her fingers. “Right! You don’t have these on Earth. Everybody on Cyberia is implanted with ports and wires as infants. It’s how we connect to the virtual reality interface and to all of our technology.”

Tim stared at her, wondering what the fuck was going on in Siberia that he didn’t know about. He frowned, processing the sentence in its entirety. “Wait, what are you—are you not from Earth?”

Nastya frowned. “Of course not, I’m from Cyberia.”

“But Siberia is on Earth.”

“It’s definitely not.” After a moment, Nastya snapped again. “Oh! Right! There’s a place called Siberia on Earth, right?”

“Right…?”

“My planet was colonized by people from Earth a few thousand years ago.” She frowned. “At least in my universe. I don’t know if Cyberia exists in this universe, actually. We hop around a lot, it gets hard to keep track.”

This was all _far_ too much for Tim to process when he was already exhausted and traumatized and feeling like he was losing it, so he just nodded. He would have been fully prepared not to believe her, but… he could see the port with his own two eyes. Part of him wanted to ask if he could touch it, just to make sure it was real, but he was worried that would be rude. Or that it would shock him. “Uh… right. Pardon my ignorance.”

“Pardoned. Now, watch.” As Tim did, she raised the scalpel to her forearm. 

Tim’s eyes widened as he reached out for her. “Whoa, hey, Nastya, you shouldn’t—”

Nastya stepped out of his reach, looking somewhat amused and somewhat touched. “It’s okay, I promise. Just trust me.”

Tim looked up at her, meeting her cool blue eyes. He took in a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.” He looked back at her arm. 

Nastya stepped forward again, giving him a good view of her arm. She sliced a small cut into her skin, hissing in a breath as she did. Hearing the noise of pain, Tim instinctively reached out and grabbed her hand, running his thumb over her skin. A second later, he realized what he had done. As he dropped her hand and muttered an apology, he looked up to see that silver color returned to her cheeks. “It’s fine. Uh… there, look!” Tim looked back down. He blinked at what he saw before him. Nastya was certainly bleeding, but her blood wasn’t red—it was bright, shiny silver. A drop ran down her arm, and he reached out to wipe it away. She jerked her arm back. “Watch out, it's mercury. You probably don’t want to touch it.”

“ _Mercury._ Jesus. Okay.”

And then things quickly got even weirder. Tim’s eyes widened as he watched the cut slowly mend itself back together, as if someone had hit a rewind button. A few moments later, there was no sign that a cut had ever been there at all. Nastya set the scalpel down on the counter behind her and grabbed a rag, wiping the mercury up before tossing the rag towards a bin labeled _BIOHAZARD_. The rag fell on the floor next to it. 

Tim looked up, making eye contact with her again. She smiled, just a little. “We—everyone on this ship right now—are immortal. When we get injured, we heal. We do not age. We cannot die.”

“Shit.” Tim reached for her arm, then pulled back. She reached out and took his hand, guiding it to her arm. He ran his hand over the place where the cut had been. It was completely, entirely smooth. He looked back up at her face. “So you’re… actually immortal.”

Nastya took in a deep breath. “We both are.” 

“... What?” Tim let out a breathless laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Nastya seemed to draw in on herself, wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing at her upper arms. “Ah, well, uh… I didn’t, ah—I didn’t get to you in time. I didn’t save you, exactly. You… died.”

“Well.” Tim ran his hand over his head. “Well, shit. I died?”

“You died.” And then, quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Tim sat in silence for several moments. As a thought occurred to him, his head snapped up and he reached for the scalpel on the counter behind Nastya. “Can I see that?” She looked at him, eyes wary, but handed it over.

“Just be careful—” She cut herself off with a wince as Tim sliced his arm open. A few moments later, it healed over entirely.

“Oh, cool,” he muttered. He did it again, watched it heal again. Again, and again, and—

“Alright, okay, that’s enough!” Nastya snatched the scalpel from him with surprising dexterity. “You’ve lost your scalpel privileges.” Tim snorted, holding his hands up peacefully. Nastya sighed and tossed the scalpel over her shoulder to the counter. Which was, all told, a terrible idea; but Tim supposed that when you can heal from anything, you likely get a bit lax about safety. 

Nastya undid her ponytail and pocketed the hair tie, then ran her hand through her hair as she yawned. Tim felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he realized for the first time how exhausted this poor girl looked. 

“How long have I been out?”

Nastya pushed her glasses up on her nose and squinted at a clock on the wall. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but another yawn just came out of her mouth. She finished, looking annoyed with herself. “Uh, about 25 hours.”

Tim blinked, sitting up. “Have you been up that entire time?” She nodded. Another pang of guilt entered his chest. This girl looked young—at least a few years younger than him—and she had been awake for at least a full day to fix him. “You should get some rest,” he said, voice gentle.

Nastya nodded again. “Yeah, I should probably get in bed before Jonny shoots me.” 

Tim jerked back. “What?”

“Oh, well,” she laughed lightly, “I’m terrible about sleeping enough, so sometimes if I haven’t slept in a while and I’m refusing to, Jonny just shoots me so I’m out for a while.” At Tim’s continued alarmed look, she quickly elaborated, “I mean, he usually only shoots me as a last resort! He starts by picking me up and dragging me to bed and sitting there until I sleep. He’s surprisingly strong for someone his size.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tim muttered. Then, louder, “Jonny sounds like a dick.”

“He is,” Nastya said, but Tim could have sworn he heard a hint of fondness in her voice. “Anyway, let’s get you to bed. Do you need help walking?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Tim stood and immediately fell on his face. Nastya let out a noise of alarm and rushed down, helping him back to his feet. She muttered a few words in a language that sounded like Russian that he had to assume were curses, insults, or both. 

“Let me help you to bed.” She looped his arm over her shoulders, then stood to her full height. As he tried to adjust to standing straight up, Tim noted that she was definitely at least his height, if not a few inches taller. As they walked towards the door, Tim let out a sharp gasp as he caught his reflection in the window. 

“Nastya?”

“Yes?” Nastya said, voice guilty.

“What do my eyes look like now?”

Nastya sighed. “Uh, let’s get you to a bedroom. There’s a mirror in there.”

“Okay,” Tim replied, numbness settling into his chest. Nastya helped him hobble out the door and down a hallway. 

“I’m just going to take you to the empty bedroom closest to us so you don’t have to walk too far; if you don’t like it, you can pick a different one later, alright?” Tim just nodded, finding that the walk was winding him so much he couldn’t bring himself to talk. The walk was mercifully short, ending at a metal door that slid open on its own as they approached. Nastya smiled. “Thank you, love.”

Tim frowned, glancing around. “Who are you talking to?”

“Oh! Our starship, Aurora.” She sighed happily. “My darling girlfriend of several centuries.” 

This was weird even for the way the night had been going, but Tim didn’t have the energy to do anything but accept it. “Okay. You’re dating the ship. You’re Anastasia Romanova, your blood is mercury, you’re an immortal cyborg from another planet, and you’re dating a spaceship. Cool.”

“Yup!” They entered the room and stopped in front of a mirror attached to the wall. Tim let out a short, manic laugh. His eyes were entirely metal, with two glowing blue lights in the center where his pupils used to be. Nastya looked at him, anxiety written on her face. “I hope they’re alright.”

Tim nodded. “Better than not having eyes at all.”

Nastya sighed, shoulders relaxing. “Right. Uh, I asked Jonny what color your eyes had been so that I could make the lights match, and he said blue. I hope that was right.” At Tim’s grimace, Nastya groaned. “He was wrong, wasn’t he?”

“My eyes were brown.” Tim sighed. “He’s such a motherfucker.”

“He really is.” Nastya walked him to the bed, helping him sit down. Her hair fell in her face as she did, and she made a face as she tucked it back behind her ear. Tim smiled, watching the way it stubbornly continued to fall around her. Trying to distract himself from the urge to brush it out of her face for her, he ran his hand across his head. As he felt his buzzcut, he sighed, smile fading. Nastya glanced over, frowning. “Are you alright?”

“I miss my hair. And my beard. I had to shave them both when I joined the military.”

“I’m sorry. How long was your hair?” Tim gestured to just below his shoulders. Nastya nodded. “You can grow it back now.” She hovered awkwardly for a moment before taking a step back towards the door. “I can let you rest.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Tim.”

As she opened the door, Tim sat up. “Nastya?”

Nastya turned back to him. “Yes?”

“What are they saying about me? Back on Earth?”

Nastya hesitated for a moment. “They know that you’re the one who blew up the moon, and they know you escaped in a life pod. You’re currently considered—what’s the term?”

“Missing in action?”

“Yes, that. And… nobody can decide if you’re a war hero, a war criminal, or both.”

“Right.” Tim sighed and turned, looking out the window next to his bed. He could still see Earth in the distance, smaller than he had ever seen it. “I can never go back, can I?” he asked, voice small. “I’d probably go to prison. And even if I didn’t, I don’t know how I’d explain what I am now to anyone.” He let out a short laugh. “I have no fucking idea where I’m going to go now.”

“You’re going to stay with us,” Nastya said as if it was obvious. Tim turned to her, eyebrow raised. Her cheeks turned silver in what he now recognized was definitely blushing. It was, admittedly, adorable. He tried not to smile. “I mean—you don’t have to, of course. If you’d like, we can drop you off at the next planet. But if—if you want, you can stay with us.” A beat passed. “We’re, uh—we’re a band, too!”

Tim laughed. “A _band_?”

Nastya nodded. “Do you play any instruments? Or sing?”

He nodded. “I sing and I play the guitar.”

“Oh!” Nastya clapped once. “Great! You’ll fit right in.” Another beat passed as he grinned at her. “If you want to. You don’t have to.” 

“I think I’d like that.”

Nastya smiled. “Good. Well, uh—I’ll see you tomorrow, Tim. Goodnight.”

Tim smiled back. “Goodnight, princess.” 

Nastya groaned, rolling her eyes. “You sound like Jonny.”

“That’s the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me.” 

Nastya laughed and left the room. Tim eyed the light switch on the wall, then paused, looking up at the ceiling. “Hey, uh… Aurora? Can you hear me? If you can, uh… would you please turn the lights off for me?” The lights switched off. Tim laughed. “ _Sick._ ” The ship hummed in a way that seemed almost pleased.

He got settled into bed, turning and staring out the window as he slowly began to drift off. Earth was getting more distant now, slowly but surely. The motion of the starship was gentle in a way that reminded him of the long road trips he and his family used to take every summer. It was soothing. Familiar. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to sleep. 

* * *

_I will not ask you where you came from_ _  
_ _I will not ask you, neither should you_ __  
_Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips_ _  
_ _We should just kiss like real people do_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Next chapter will be uploaded a week from today (unless I get impatient and start updating twice a week, lol). Also, huge shout-out to my fiance, Nick, for beta reading this for me!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at cyberian-demons.


	2. I Won't Come Back to Haunt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nastya,” Tim gasped out. “What—what are you doing in my room?”
> 
> Nastya swept hair out of her face and adjusted her glasses. “You were screaming. I got worried.”
> 
> “Fuck.” Tim groaned, falling back in bed and staring at the metal ceiling. 
> 
> — 
> 
> Tim has a nightmare. But, for the first time in a very long time, somebody else is there to help her through the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much to the people who commented on the last chapter! This is a super rarepair, so I was very very worried that I would get 0 comments. Every comment made me so incredibly happy to read, so thank you!! 
> 
> Note: Reminder that Tim is genderfluid in this fic! Tim uses she/her pronouns in this chapter.
> 
> Chapter title is from “Soldier & Rose” from Ghost Quartet.

_Screams and darkness gunshots laser shots catching fire everyone on fire gas choking gas can’t breathe choking on gas Bertie—_

_Bertie—_

_Bertie face half blown off on the ground side of his face gone completely gone no no no Tim only left him for a minute this wasn’t supposed to happen no no please God no—_

“Tim! _Tim!”_

“Ah!” Tim catapulted up, heart pounding. The room was dark, so dark; she was in the moon, in the tunnels, someone could be right in front of her—

“Aurora, lights!”

Lights turned on, flooding the room. Tim gasped, looking around wildly. She was in her room, safe in the ship she had spent her past two months in. Safe. As she caught her breath, she looked up to see Nastya kneeling next to her in sweatpants and a tank top, staring at her with her glasses askew and her brow furrowed. “Nastya,” Tim gasped out. She took a moment to catch her breath before trying to speak again. “What—what are you doing in my room?”

Nastya swept a few strands of hair out of her face and adjusted her glasses. “You were screaming. I got worried.”

“Fuck.” Tim groaned, falling back in bed and staring at the metal ceiling. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“No,” she said, in the voice that Tim already knew meant she was lying. “I was up already.”

“Right.” Tim rolled over onto her side, looking at her. Nastya’s hand was resting on the side of her bed; after a moment, Tim reached out and took it. The other Mechanisms were _very_ touchy, and she was getting more and more used to it by the day. Nastya squeezed her hand and rubbed her thumb across her skin, and the motion calmed her racing heart rate just a little more. She was _definitely_ getting used to this. “Thank you for checking on me, Nastya.” As she stared at Nastya, her brow furrowed. “You look exhausted.”

Nastya shrugged. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping tonight.” 

“Why’s that? Are you okay?”

“Same shit as you,” she sighed. “Bad memories. I have trouble sleeping when it gets bad. I normally see if someone will let me sleep in their bed when it gets bad, but everyone already has someone they’re sleeping with tonight, and I worry about the bed getting crowded.” She made a face. “Unless I sleep with the Toy Soldier. Which I think would just creep me out more.”

Tim laughed. “Does it even _need_ to sleep?”

Nastya shook her head. “No, but the rest of us do, and it wants to feel like us. So it just… lays on its bed, on top of its blankets, and stares at the ceiling for eight hours. Sometimes it pretends to snore.”

Tim snorted. She looked at Nastya, turning something over in her mind for a moment. “Does sleeping with other people help? Make you feel better?” Nastya nodded. Tim turned it over for another second before slowly asking, “Do you… wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” Although she would have trouble admitting it, the request wasn’t entirely for Nastya’s benefit—if sleeping together helped the other Mechanisms, maybe it would help Tim, too.

Nastya looked at her with wide eyes, and worry struck Tim’s chest. Maybe she was being too forward, maybe she was being too presumptuous. Maybe she was making Nastya uncomfortable. Just as she was about to apologize, a slow smile spread over Nastya’s face. “I would like that. If you don’t mind.”

Tim nodded, moving back until her back was against the wall so that Nastya would have plenty of room. Nastya climbed in, setting her glasses on the bedside table and politely asking the Aurora to turn the lights back off as she did. The light went dim except for the small blue nightlight Ivy had given her last week, keeping the room illuminated just enough to help calm Tim. They both laid in bed, looking at each other in the dim light. Nastya’s hand was laying between them. Tim stared at it for a moment before reaching over and taking it. Nastya smiled, squeezing her hand. 

Nastya was beautiful. Everyone on the ship was. They were all in some kind of a relationship together, as Tim had discovered several weeks ago when she saw Jonny kiss Ashes and Nastya in rapid succession. “It’s not _exactly_ dating,” Ivy had explained when Tim asked, “But that’s not because we don’t love each other enough to call it that—it’s more that we mean so much to each other and we’re all so many things to each other that just calling it _dating_ feels limiting.” 

And polyamory was certainly nothing new to Tim; her relationship with Bertie had been open. Still, though, she… hesitated, when it came to the thought of pursuing a relationship with someone else. She could have dated other people while dating Bertie—at a few points, she _had_. Hell, the two of them had even had a few threesomes with Jonny. So she wasn’t necessarily caught on the idea of betraying Bertie’s memory or anything like that. But every time she considered starting something new, all she could think of was him. 

“Tim?”

Tim blinked, focusing on Nastya’s face. “Yes?”

“I asked how you’re doing?”

“Right, sorry.” Tim sighed, rubbing her beard. “Uh… I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” 

Nastya sat up slightly, running her hand over Tim’s arm. “You’re shaking.”

“Am I?” Tim looked at her arms, letting out a short laugh. “Sorry, I—I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I can deal with this.”

Nastya moved closer. “Tim…” She trailed off, looking indecisive for a moment, as if she couldn’t decide what to say. Apparently deciding against saying anything at all, she just laid down and opened her arms, tugging on Tim’s arm very slightly—not pulling her into her arms, but letting her know that she could move over. Tim stayed still for a moment. As Nastya looked sheepish and began to put her arms down, Tim slowly moved forward, pressing her body up against Nastya. Nastya wrapped her arms around her. Tim wrapped an arm around Nastya, holding her close. She began trailing a hand up and down Nastya’s back, and Nastya let out a little pleased hum.

After a few minutes of silence, Tim began to speak very quietly. “My partner died in the war.”

Nastya let out a small gasp. “Oh, Tim, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Tim curled up closer to Nastya. 

A beat passed. “Do you wanna tell me about them?”

Tim took a few moments to collect herself before continuing. “His name was Bertie. We were childhood best friends, we grew up next door to each other. He was a year younger than me, but I got held back a grade when I was a kid, so we ended up going through school together. We started going to Oxford together—”

“Oxford?”

“A university, sorry. I, uh—” Tim laughed, “—I dropped out partway through my first year and started working as a barista. Bertie was so excited to keep going, to get his degree, but then…”

“... But then the war happened?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. Then the war happened. And everything went to shit. I had always been athletic, at least, but he—” she laughed, just a little, “—was not. While I was playing rugby, he was in theatre club. In any other time, he would have been sent home packing after his first day, but… this wasn’t a normal time. So he stayed. And he was so _fucking terrified,_ because he wasn’t _good_ at fighting at all. So I—I told him to just stay close to me, that I’d protect him.” She realized that she was shaking again. “I was supposed to _protect him_ ,” she choked out, voice breaking. “And I failed. And now he’s gone, and it’s my fault.”

“Oh, _Tim_.” Nastya tried to tilt Tim’s head up to look at her, but she kept her face pointed at Nastya’s chest. She couldn’t bear the thought of Nastya seeing her so emotional. “Tim, it’s not your fault. I’m sure you did everything you could.”

Tim shook her head as the tightness in her chest increased. “I just—I just needed to walk away from him for just a minute, just _one fucking minute_ . I came back right as someone fired at him. They—they blew half of his face off. And I just—I just had to _watch_ , I couldn’t stop it. I was supposed to _protect_ him, Nastya, and I failed. He’s dead because of me.”

“Tim, no.” Nastya squeezed her tight to her chest. “It’s _not_ your fault. The people who started the war, the people who shot him—it’s their fault. It’s not yours. I’m sure you did all you could to keep him safe.”

“But I just—” Tim inhaled shakily. “I can’t shake the feeling that wherever he is right now, if there’s any kind of afterlife and he can think about me now, that he must hate me. For failing to protect him. For letting him die.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. “I had this friend named Alyosha,” Nastya said suddenly, quietly. Tim pulled back and looked at her, brow furrowed. “He had been with my family for decades. A servant, basically. This is going to sound sad, but he was the closest thing I had to a friend. My family was always busy, so they never had time for me. And I wasn’t supposed to socialize with people below my status, but nobody of my status…” She laughed a little, awkwardly. “Well, _liked_ me. I wasn’t sociable like my brothers; I was always the weird, quiet girl who kept to herself. But Alyosha liked me, and I liked him.”

Nastya’s grip tightened around Tim. “When the revolution came, Alyosha found me hiding in my bedroom. I had heard my family scream and then just—just stop, suddenly. So I figured they were already… well. You know. And I knew I was going to be next. But Alyosha found me, and he swore that he was going to protect me.”

A beat passed. “What happened?” Tim asked quietly.

Nastya let out a long, shaky breath, then continued in a carefully measured voice. “My tutor, Yulia—someone I would have trusted with my life—came in and stabbed him. Then she stabbed me in the stomach and dragged me to Yenin, the person leading the revolution. He shot me in the chest.”

Tim looked up at Nastya. Before she could stop herself, her hand went up to Nastya’s head, gently stroking her hair. The way she used to do for Bertie. Just as she was prepared to yank back and apologize, Nastya leaned into her hand. “I’m so sorry that happened, Nastya.”

“Thank you.” Nastya closed her eyes as she leaned into Tim’s hand. A moment later, she took in a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I’m not telling you that for sympathy or pity, though. I’m telling you that because Alyosha swore to protect me, and I died anyway, and I’ve never blamed him.” Tim froze. “Not once. He did everything he could; it wasn’t his fault that it wasn’t enough. Yulia, Yenin, everybody involved in killing my family, they were to blame. But not him. It’s not his fault.” She reached out, gently stroking the side of Tim’s face. “It’s not yours, either. If I don’t blame Alyosha, I doubt Bertie blames you.” 

Tim closed her eyes and leaned into Nastya. If she still had tear ducts, she would definitely be crying by now. But she didn’t, so she just let dry sobs work through her body, leaving her shaking. Nastya pulled her closer, rubbing her back. “Thanks,” Tim managed to choke out after a few minutes. “Thank you, Nastya.”

Nastya just nodded, keeping Tim in her arms. They didn’t say anything else that night—they didn’t need to. They just laid there together, holding each other, until they both drifted off to sleep. And, for the first time in a long while, Tim slept almost peacefully.

* * *

 _I won’t speak_ _  
__I won’t say a word_ _  
__I won’t come back to haunt you_ _  
__I won’t have the time..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Tumblr at cyberian-demons.
> 
> Next chapter will be uploaded on August 4th.


	3. Know My Weakness, Know My Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After months in space, the crew of the Aurora finally lands on a planet. When Tim gets far more drunk than she should, she ends up having a conversation with Nastya that she wasn’t planning on having.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much to everyone who's commented/left kudos! It seriously makes my day every time I get a comment. This is one of my favorite Mechs fics I've written, and it genuinely makes me so happy to see that other people like it. Thank you!! 
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Alcohol; Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (literally)
> 
> CHAPTER NOTES: Tim uses she/her pronouns in this chapter. Chapter title is from “Babel” by Mumford & Sons.

Tim stepped off the ship, squinting in the sunlight. After being on the moon for years and in a spaceship for six months, she had to restrain herself from flinging her body down on the ground and rolling in the grass. Nastya walked up and took her hand. “The city should be just up ahead.”

“Fucking finally,” Jonny said as they all walked, slinging an arm over Ashes’ shoulders. “Who wants to go drinking with me?”

Nastya squinted at Jonny. “It’s noon.”

“It’s five o’clock on some planet, Nastya!”

Nastya rolled her eyes. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“You know I’m in,” Ashes said, grinning and pecking Jonny’s cheek.

“I think I’ll pass, too,” Ivy said. “I’d rather spend the afternoon going to bookshops.” 

“I’ll go to the bar,” Brian said. “You two need somebody to stop you from getting into too much trouble.” 

“Yeah, good idea,” Ashes said, though Tim caught them eyeing Brian’s morality switch.

Jonny looked over at Tim, raising an eyebrow. “What about you? I know you know how to have fun.”

Tim laughed. “Yeah, I’ll come. I need to go shopping first, though. I can’t keep borrowing Nastya’s clothes forever.” Even if Nastya had been okay with it, the clothes were definitely a bit tight—Nastya’s clothes were the only ones long enough to fit her, but she was also much narrower than Tim, and her jeans dug into some _very_ uncomfortable places. 

“I’ll go shopping with you,” Nastya said, though she looked deeply uncomfortable as she said it.

Tim squeezed her hand. “Would you rather stay on the Aurora?”

“Yes, but I need new clothes, too.” 

“Alright. We can stick together, then.” 

Nastya gave her a grateful smile and squeezed her hand. 

As they got into the city and made their way downtown, Nastya pressed herself closer to Tim, drawing in on herself further. As the noise increased, Jonny looked over at her. “Nastya, did you bring your earplugs?” he asked, voice surprisingly gentle. Tim looked over at him, tilting her head to the side curiously. Jonny ignored her.

Nastya shook her head. “Forgot,” she muttered.

Jonny fished around in his pockets before drawing out a pair of earplugs and handing them over. Nastya gave him a grateful look before shoving them in her ears. She immediately began to relax against Tim. A few moments later, they came up to an electronics shop. Nastya’s eyes widened and she began to smile. “I’d like to stop in here,” she said quietly. “I should be alright alone in there if you want to keep going, Tim. I’ll catch up.”

Tim nodded, looking around. Spying a clothing shop across the street, she gestured over to it as she looked back to Nastya. “I’ll be in there; head over when you’re done.”

“Hold on.” Ashes dug around in their bag for a moment before pulling out three stacks of paper and handing one each to Tim, Ivy, and Nastya. “Credits. I checked before we landed, they should accept them on this planet. If you run out, find me before you just start robbing places. I’d like to be able to stay on this planet at least a few months.”

Ivy furrowed her brow. “Well, how are _you_ going to get more credits, if not by robbing people?”

Ashes grinned. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to. But _I_ know how to not get caught.”

Tim laughed, pocketing the money. “Thanks, Ashes. I appreciate it.”

Nastya quietly thanked Ashes, then kissed everybody besides Tim before walking into the shop. “Well,” Jonny said, “I spy a bar and a bookshop up ahead, so I know where we’ll all going. See you in a bit, Tim.”

As the group turned to walk away, Tim caught Jonny by the wrist. “Wait, could I ask you something before you go?” 

Jonny grinned. “I think you just did.”

Tim rolled her eyes. “Another thing, then. What’s up with Nastya? Is she okay?”

“Oh, yeah. She just hates crowds, loud noises, and bright light.”

Tim furrowed her eyebrows. “Cyborg thing?”

Jonny laughed. “Autistic thing.”

“Oh. Duh.”

“Just, you know. Let her hold onto you if you don’t mind it; don’t take it personally if she stops talking; and if she gets too overwhelmed, help her get somewhere quiet.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, Bertie was autistic. I know the drill.”

“Great.” Jonny clapped her on the shoulder. “Well, see you when you’re ready to have fun.”

“Yeah, see you.” 

Brian, Ashes, and Ivy gave her hugs before continuing on. Ashes’ was accompanied by a brief kiss on the cheek that left Tim’s face flushed. With the rest of the group gone, she jogged across the street and into the clothing store. She took a moment to count the credits before browsing through price tags to figure out how far the money Ashes gave her would go. As it turned out, _quite far._ “Jesus, Ashes,” she muttered. She briefly considered asking Ashes how they got all of that money before deciding she didn’t want to know. 

About ten minutes later, as she strolled around the store with dresses and skirts and pants and shirts slung over her arm, the shop bell ringed. Nastya walked in, carrying a bag with a few cords sticking out of it. As she approached Tim, she took her earplugs out and stuck them in her pocket. “Hi,” she said quietly.

Tim smiled. “Hey. Get anything good?” Nastya nodded. “What did you get?”

Nastya opened her mouth, then closed it. She took in a deep, measured breath before continuing. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“The long version.”

Nastya proceeded to launch into a long speech about everything she had bought and exactly what she was using it for. Tim asked questions as they shopped, prodding Nastya into delving deeper into things that Tim barely understood but enjoyed hearing about. They went into a few more shops, Tim encouraging Nastya to keep going the entire time they were shopping. Tim had correctly guessed that it would help stop her from getting too overwhelmed, and by the time they got back to the ship, Nastya only looked a little exhausted. 

As they got inside, Nastya blinked. “Was I talking the entire time we were out?”

“You were.”

Nastya blushed. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Tim took her hand, smiling at her. “I liked it. I’d love to hear more later. If there’s more that you have to say about it.”

Nastya’s eyes widened. “I _always_ have more to say about technology.” 

Tim laughed lightly. “I’m gonna get changed, then do you wanna keep talking while I put my makeup on?”

Nastya nodded. When Tim met her in the bathroom, she hopped up on the counter and delved into a speech about artificial intelligence. As Tim finished applying her lipstick and Nastya’s speech came to a conclusion, they heard the _whoosh_ of the Aurora’s front door sliding open. 

“It’s me,” Ivy called out. Nastya and Tim walked towards her voice, Tim savoring the feeling of her skirt swishing around her legs as she did. Fuck, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed that. 

As the three met in the living room, Ivy set down four large bags of books before kissing Nastya. Tim laughed as she looked over the books. “Buy out the entire bookstore, Ivy?”

“Not yet,” Ivy grinned, “But we’ve only been here for two hours.”

Tim laughed again. “Well, I’m going to go get incredibly drunk. I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Alright,” Ivy said as Tim walked towards the door. “Try not to get into too much trouble.”

“No promises!” she called over her shoulder. 

“Don’t do anything Jonny would do!”

Tim just laughed again in response. 

* * *

Twelve hours and three bar fights later, Tim stumbled back onto the Aurora, supporting herself on Jonny. Ashes and Brian had split off to do who knows what a few hours ago, so there had been no one around to see as she got more and more touchy with Jonny the drunker they both got. She wiped her face, then stared down at her hand, trying to figure out if the red smeared across her fingers was blood, lipstick, or both. After a moment, she was fairly certain it was both. She looked up at Jonny, trying to focus on his face. “You,” she said as slapped him gently on the chest, “Are a _dick_.” 

“Yup!” He grinned, wiping a bit of blood off of his own face. “You look gorgeous like that, you know.” Tim froze. Apparently not noticing, Jonny continued, “The whole blood-and-lipstick thing really suits you.” 

Tim laughed, trying to shove down the twisting feeling in her chest. “Thanks.” 

Jonny began to lean his face towards hers—just a little, but enough that Tim could tell what he was going for. He paused, apparently waiting to see what Tim did. Tim took in a deep breath. They were both very, very drunk. And all night, every time someone at the bar complimented Tim on her looks, every time Ashes or Jonny flirted with her, every little wink and brush of the hand and complimentary whisper in her ear, she thought of Bertie. Now, at the end of the night, her chest felt so heavy that she felt like she was drowning. She wanted it to stop. For one _fucking_ night, she wanted to stop feeling anything.

So she kissed Jonny back. 

It wasn’t the first time she had taken Jonny to bed since she moved into the ship, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Every so often, on nights when she could feel gas choking her or hear Bertie’s voice in her ear, she would find Jonny, grab him by the lapels, and crash their mouths together. She wasn’t ready for a relationship yet; but this, she reasoned, was different—because she and Bertie had slept with Jonny together, and because this was only sex, not anywhere close to the tender romance that she and Bertie had once had.

An hour or so later, Jonny was passed out as she laid curled up against his chest. She stared out the window, trying not to let her paranoia drive her to see figures in the forest where she was logically sure there were none. After a few minutes of laying like that, she sighed and sat up. The idea of just trying to sleep like this was _incredibly_ tempting, but she’d hate herself in the morning if she did. She got up and went over to the shopping bags of unpacked clothing, rifling through until she pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. After several embarrassingly long minutes of trying, she managed to get them on. 

Kicking her and Jonny’s clothes out of her way, she opened the door and stumbled into the bathroom a little ways down the hall. She grabbed a washcloth and got it wet before wiping over her face with indelicate hands, going over and over until her face was clear of makeup and blood. Peering at her reflection, she was quite pleased to find that all of her cuts had already healed over and her black eye was quickly fading. Happy enough with the state she was in, she left the bathroom. 

Tim tried to sleep. She really, really did. But the warm buzz of post-sex euphoria was quickly fading and the haze of intoxication was quickly turning from pleasant to depressed, and sleep seemed to evade her the longer she tried. After maybe half an hour, she sighed and stood up. 

Jonny grumbled something that might have been “Where are you going?” as she opened the door. 

“Just getting water,” she whispered. “Be back in a few.”

He nodded and fell immediately back to sleep. Tim snorted and walked to the kitchen. As she rounded the corner into the hallway the kitchen was located in, she saw that the door was cracked open and a splinter of light was shining out from it. Before she could think about what she was doing, her back was pressed to the wall as she slid slowly towards the door, hand reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. She froze just outside the door, realizing that she could hear faint singing from inside. After a moment of trying to figure out what the hell the words were, she realized that they were Russian. Cyberian. Whatever. 

Tim forced her body to relax as she stepped inside the kitchen. Only one light was on, leaving the kitchen dim, but Tim could still make out Nastya standing at the sink in a pair of Jonny’s shorts and one of Ashes’ sleep shirts, filling up a glass of water. “Nastya?”

Nastya jumped, nearly dropping her glass as she spun around. “Tim?”

“Hey.” Tim ran her hand through her hair as she walked over to the cabinet, grabbing a glass and filling it up as she glanced over at Nastya. “Couldn’t sleep?

Nastya shook her head. “I’ve been up for about half an hour.”

“Are you alright?”

“Nightmares,” she sighed. She moved over to the table, sitting down on one of the long benches. Tim followed, taking a seat next to her. “You know the drill.”

Tim reached over, slowly rubbing her hand up and down her back. Nastya hummed, moving closer to her. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” She sighed again, and Tim felt her relax against her. 

A beat passed. “Do you want to talk about them?”

Nastya shook her head. “Not really. Tell me how your night out went?”

“Oh, man,” Tim laughed. “We got into some _shit._ ”

Nastya laughed, swatting at her arm. “Tim! Ivy told you not to get into trouble.”

“I tried not to!” Tim lied. “It was all Jonny’s fault.” That was at least partially true. “He kept provoking people, and when they started trying to beat him up, I helped him. Because I’m a good friend.” 

Nastya rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and she was visibly more relaxed than she had been a few minutes ago. “You’re both awful.”

Tim laughed. She pulled back, looking at Nastya. There was a patch of moonlight shining in from the window above them, shining silver against Nastya’s hair and reflecting in her bright eyes. Before Tim could think through what she was saying, she blurted out “You’re beautiful.”

“Oh!” Nastya’s eyes widened as her entire face turned silver. “Oh, um—thank you. You are, too.”

“And—” Tim took in a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts enough to speak. She really, really hoped she wouldn’t regret this in the morning. “And I like you, a lot. I like all of you a lot. And if things were really, really different, then I—then things would probably be different between us. If, I mean—if you wanted them to be.”

Nastya stared at her, the flustered look leaving her face as her eyes scanned over her with the same analytical gaze she used for machinery. “You’re still drunk.”

“Yes.” Tim nodded, then stopped as the motion made her feel like the room was spinning. “Very. So I’m sorry if I’m not making sense. I’m—I like you a lot, Nastya. I want you to know that. And I—” she laughed. “Fuck, I’m being incredibly presumptuous, aren’t I? Acting like I’m confident that you—that you would want—”

Nastya reached out, taking her hand. “I would. I really, really would.”

Tim rubbed her thumb over the back of Nastya’s hand. “I’m sorry things aren’t different. Maybe one day, but just—not yet.”

Nastya looked down, not responding for a moment. When she did, her voice was so quiet that Tim had to strain to hear her. “Why are things different for Jonny, then?”

Tim’s heart sank. “You know that we…?”

Nastya nodded. “I heard you. You’re, uh. You’re not very quiet, at least when you’re drunk. And noise travels in the ship very easily."

“Ah.” Tim groaned, placing her arm on the table and then bending her head down to rest on it. “Well, that’s embarrassing.” She stayed like that for a moment as they sat in silence. Finally, she raised her head and spoke again. “Jonny is different,” she said.

Something that might have been hurt flashed across Nastya’s face. “I see,” she said quietly.

Tim shook her head. “No, I—not like that. I’m not—” She sighed. “I can’t be in a romantic relationship right now. But what I’ve been doing with Jonny… isn’t that. At all.”

“Oh.” Understanding lit up Nastya’s face. “I see. I get that.” She furrowed her brow. “And… Jonny knows that, right?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, we’ve talked about it. It’s…” Tim sighed, taking a sip of her water to stall. “Some nights, all I can think about is everything awful that’s happened over the past few years. The war. All the times I’ve almost died.” She stared down at the table, dropping her voice. “Losing Bertie.” She sighed, looking back up at Nastya. “When I have sex with Jonny, it… distracts me, I guess. Helps me forget.”

“Helps you ignore it.”

After a moment, Tim nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Nastya sighed. “Tim… I’m not—I’m not entirely sure if that’s healthy.”

Tim looked away from Nastya, staring down at the table. “I know,” she said quietly, “But I don’t really care. It helps. So I’m going to keep doing it.” 

Nastya put her hand on Tim’s arm. “I just don’t want to see you do something that’s hurting yourself, Tim.”

“It’s not hurting! It’s just…” Tim sighed. “It’s just maybe not—maybe not helping the way that it should. I don’t know. But I don’t want to stop.” 

They sat in silence for a moment. “I understand,” Nastya said finally. “And god knows I can’t judge anyone for unhealthy coping mechanisms.” As she spoke, she brought her free hand up to her opposite forearm and gently stroked the skin of her own wrist. “I won’t tell you not to do it. But I’m here if you want another kind of distraction or another kind of comfort. And if—” she took in a deep breath, “If you ever get to the point where you do want more than that, I’ll be here. Just let me know.”

Tim looked over at her. She stared at her for a moment before leaning forward, pulling Nastya into a tight hug. Nastya embraced her back, holding her tight. “I—” Tim began to spoke, but the words got caught in her throat. “I care about you, Nastya,” she whispered in her ear.

Nastya squeezed her. “I care about you too, Tim.” 

Tim pulled back, running a hand up and down Nastya’s arm. “Do you want to come back to bed with me? I’m sleeping with Jonny tonight.” After a moment, Nastya nodded. Tim stood up, taking Nastya’s hand and guiding her down the hall. As they entered her room, Tim whispered “Do you want to lay in the middle?” Nastya nodded again, crawling into bed. 

“Tim?” Jonny mumbled, lifting his head slightly. He looked at Nastya next to him, brow furrowing. “Nas?” 

“Hi, Jonny,” she whispered.

Jonny nodded and laid down, kissing Nastya before wrapping an arm around her. She got settled laying with her back against Jonny’s chest, then looked up at Tim. Tim smiled and crawled in on her other side, wrapping her arm around her. Nastya sighed, relaxing against both of them.

Tim cared very, very deeply about Nastya. And, admittedly, about Jonny. About everyone on the ship. Maybe one day, she’d be able to say more. But for now, at least, this would have to be enough. And for now, at least, the words provided her comfort and kept her chest warm as she laid next to Nastya and finally, blissfully, fell asleep.

The trio was woken up very early in the morning by loud sounds outside. All grumbling and squinting in the early morning sunlight, they sat up and stared at the window to see a large crowd rapidly approaching the ship. 

“What the hell?” Nastya muttered. 

The door flew open, and they all whipped around to see Ashes standing there, grinning sheepishly. “Hey, uh, we have to leave this country and go to the other side of the planet. Right now.”

Nastya groaned. “Ashes, what did you do?”

“We robbed three banks. And then set them on fire.” 

“Oh my god!” Nastya said as Tim and Jonny laughed.

“Probably for the best that we’re leaving,” Tim said casually. “Jonny and I killed a few people last night.”

As Nastya groaned again, Ashes gave her a thumbs up. “Hey, nice, we all got into fun!”

“We should probably just leave the planet,” Jonny said. “Be on the safe side.”

“Ivy is going to be mad,” Nastya said, though the annoyance that been on her face was rapidly fading into mild amusement.

“Well, we’re fucking rich now, and the next planet uses the same currency,” Ashes said with a wide grin, “So when we get to the next planet, I’ll buy her all the books she wants.” As the ship began to move, Ashes looked out the window. “I’ll go tell Brian to re-route and take us off-planet. Love you!” And with that, they disappeared out the door.

Nastya sighed, flopping back down on the bed. “I can’t believe you all,” she muttered, though there was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

Jonny and Tim both laid back down next to her. Jonny wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. “Love you, too, princess.”

* * *

 _'Cause I know my weakness, know my voice_ _  
_ _And I'll believe in grace and choice_ _  
_ _And I know perhaps my heart is farce,_   
But I'll be born without a mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Tumblr at cyberian-demons, where I blog about The Mechanisms and post a few mini-fics that don't make it to AO3 (tagged "my fic").
> 
> Next chapter will be uploaded on August 11th.


	4. I Just Wanna Lay Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After comforting Nastya in the aftermath of a nightmare, Tim has a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end of the fic! Only two more chapters left after this. Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading! I really, really appreciate it.
> 
> Chapter title is from “Ram’s Head” by Sea Wolf.

_Anastasia was curled up in her wardrobe, clutching her pillow to her chest as if it could offer her any protection. She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth as screams continued to echo through her home. Her ports ached—she could hardly remember the last time she had been completely unplugged. Had she ever been?_

_The doorknob began to rattle. Anastasia whimpered and curled up tighter. And then she heard a familiar voice. “Anastasia, it’s me! Let me in!”_

_Anastasia gasped. She bolted out of the wardrobe and ran to her bedroom door, throwing it open. “Alyosha!”_

_Her oldest friend looked even older and more frail outside of the virtual reality interface. Still, he embraced her close before pulling back and looking at her. “We need to get you out of here as quickly as we can. Come with me, I know a way out.”_

_Anastasia gripped his hand. “Alyosha, I’m scared.”_

_“I know, my dear. But I swear, I’ll keep you safe.”_

_“Anastasia!”_

_Anastasia and Alyosha both turned to see Anastasia’s tutor approaching them. Relief flooded Anastasia’s chest. “Yulia! Thank goodness you’re—”_

_Yulia drew a knife from her belt and stabbed Alyosha. As Alyosha cried out and fell to the floor, spasming in a pool of blood, Anastasia screamed and ran back into her room, trying desperately to shove the door closed behind her. She wasn’t fast enough. Yulia approached her slowly, face dreadfully calm. “Anastasia,” she said gently, “I’m very sorry, but this has to be done. It is time for revolution, Anastasia, and no trace of the old rule may be allowed to live.”_

_Anastasia’s back hit the wall. “Please,” she whimpered, legs shaking so badly she felt like she was going to collapse. “I’ll—I’ll leave! I’ll leave the planet, I’ll never come back, I promise—”_

_Yulia sighed. “I’m afraid that won’t be good enough, Anastasia.” As Yulia drew closer, Anastasia took a deep breath and ran, trying to dart around her, hoping that she’d somehow be fast enough—_

_A hand caught her wrist, yanking her back. Anastasia let out a choked sob. Yulia pulled her close in a mockery of an embrace. “It’s alright, shh,” she whispered in Anastasia’s ear, “It’s alright. It will be over soon, dear. Just relax.” Anastasia felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She cried out. And then another, and another, and another. “It’s alright, Anastasia. It will all be over soon.”_

_Footsteps ran down the hallway, rapidly approaching the room. Anastasia allowed herself to feel a flicker of hope as the feet stopped and a voice came from the doorway. “Yenin wants to see the princess—he wants to take care of her personally.”_

_Anastasia let out a ragged sob as Yulia sighed. “Alright. Come, Anastasia.” She put the knife back on her belt and scooped Anastasia up in her arms. Anastasia struggled weakly, beating her fists against Yulia’s chest, but she didn’t even flinch. Finally, they reached her parents’ room. Anastasia whimpered as she saw the bodies of her family on the floor. Yulia shushed her in a mockery of comfort and shielded her eyes from them. “It’s alright, Anastasia,” she whispered in her ear as she set her on her feet, standing to her side and supporting her by the shoulders._

_Anastasia looked up at the man before her, vision already swimming from blood loss. “Yenin,” she ground out, mustering all the vitriol she could. She spat on his feet._

_Yenin didn’t react. He didn’t even have the kindness to look upset. He just looked completely emotionless as he sighed, drew a gun from his belt, and pointed it at her chest. “Let’s get this over with.”_

_A bang rang through the room as Anastasia felt a sharp pain shoot through her chest. She let out a cry as Yulia continued to support her, continued to whisper calming words in her ear. As she rapidly began to lose consciousness, Anastasia looked at Yenin’s gun and realized how weak his grip looked. Well, she had nothing left to lose, did she?_

_Anastasia grabbed the gun and turned it around, shooting Yenin three times in the chest before anybody could stop her. Yulia yelled and cursed, letting Anastasia fall to the floor as she and everybody else in the room rushed to Yenin. Anastasia curled up on the floor next to the bodies of her family and waited to die._

“Nastya? Nastya!”

Nastya sat up with a loud gasp, clutching at her stomach and looking wildly around the pitch-dark room. Somebody was next to her, grabbing at her, trying to grip her wrists. She let out a cry and tried to shove them away. “Nastya, it’s just—” She punched them as hard as they could. They grunted. “Aurora!” Light flooded the room. 

Nastya gasped. “Tim!” She stood still for a moment, trying desperately to catch her breath. As soon as she felt like she could breathe a little, she threw herself at Tim, wrapping her arms around him. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head as she tried not to sob against him. A few minutes later, she managed to choke out, “Sorry I punched you.”

“It’s okay.” He rubbed his chest. “It’s weird. Your punches are weak, but your fist is heavy.”

“It’s the mercury.” She took in a few more deep breaths before slowly laying back down, taking Tim with her. She curled up against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her, slowly rubbing her back. “Aurora, love, could you get the lights?” The lights slowly turned off. Nastya took in a deep breath. “Thank you.” Aurora vibrated comfortingly. Nastya smiled, just a little. 

Tim pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Nastya looked down. “I dreamed about the day I died,” she whispered. She moved her hand down, clutching at her stomach. Her scars were aching. “I hate it. It’s been over a century, and I still have nightmares about it.” 

Tim reached down to her stomach, pressing gently on her hands. As he did, she realized how hard she was gripping herself, nails digging harshly into her skin. She relaxed them, allowing him to pull them away and then rub gentle circles over her stomach. “I’m sorry, Nastya.”

“Thanks.” She took in a few more deep, steady breaths. “Thank you. I’m okay.”

Nastya found herself finally relaxing against Tim. In the two years that Tim had been with them, the two of them had gotten closer and closer. Her heart still fluttered when Tim kissed her on the forehead or took her by the hand or looked at her a certain way, but she had largely learned to push those feelings down and focus on their friendship. Maybe he’d be ready in a day, a year, a decade, a century. Maybe he never would be. Her heart would ache at that, but she would live. Being his friend could be enough. 

“I’m here, Nastya. You’re safe, alright?”

Nastya let out a short laugh. “I still don’t feel safe. I still feel like they’re going to catch up to me any day and finish the job.”

Tim pulled back, staring down at Nastya with an unexpected intensity in his eyes. “I’m going to keep you safe. I won’t let anybody hurt you. Not now, not ever. You’re safe.”

She gripped his hand. “Do you promise?” she whispered, feeling horribly childish as she did.

Tim smiled at her, lifting her hand up to his mouth and kissing it gently. “I swear. I’m not going to let anybody touch you.” 

And then something happened that was genuinely startling to Nastya. Tim’s words _worked._ Not entirely—her fear didn’t disappear in an instant, never to come again; but it lessened, enough that she felt her body relaxing against Tim. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I feel safe with you, Tim.”

Tim brought her back against his chest and pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “I feel safe with you, too.”

“Good. I know I’m not—” she let out a short laugh, “I’m not particularly strong or fearsome or tough the way that most of you are. I’m just an engineer. But I want to protect you, too.”

Tim laughed. “Nastya Rasputina, there is nothing ‘just’ about you. You’re one of the most incredible women I’ve ever met. And you can be perfectly terrifying when you want to be!”

“Thanks, Tim.” Nastya grinned, thankful that their positions meant that Tim couldn’t see her blushing.

Tim began rubbing up and down Nastya’s back, softly humming to her as he did. Nastya relaxed against him more and more, feeling herself slowly slipping back into sleep. 

“Nastya?” Tim whispered after several minutes. “I need to tell you something. I’ve been thinking it for a while, and I… I think I’m ready to say it.” He took a deep breath. “I—I love you. I love you, Nastya Rasputina.” As he waited with bated breath for her response, all he got was a light snore. “... Nastya?” She continued to snore, fast asleep. Tim laughed under his breath, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off again.

In the morning, Nastya yawned and pressed a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Good morning.”

“‘Morning.”

She scrunched her brow, looking up at him. “Did I hear you talking when I was falling asleep last night, or did I imagine that?”

A beat passed before Tim smiled at her. “Must have imagined it.”

“Huh. Okay.”

* * *

 _Yesterday is over and tomorrow nears_ _  
_ _But I just wanna lay right here_ _  
_ _The blanket on your shoulder as tomorrow nears_   
And I just wanna lay right here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY, I KNOW THAT WAS VERY MEAN. (Not that sorry, tho). 
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you liked this chapter, I'd love to hear it in the comments! Every comment I get makes me VERY happy and seriously brightens my whole day. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at cyberian-demons.


	5. I Know the Winter's Getting Colder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Jonny get a little too drunk and a little too rowdy for the comfort of the ship's traumatized engineer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the penultimate chapter of this fic! I can't believe we're almost at the end. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who left comments on the last chapter! I've been having a rough few weeks, and every comment I get makes my day a lot better <3 
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Heavy Alcohol Use; Mild Violence; PTSD
> 
> CHAPTER NOTES: Tim is genderfluid and uses she/her pronouns in this chapter. Chapter title is from “Winter of Our Youth” by Bastille

Tim and Jonny were both far, far too drunk for 6:00pm. They had started drinking a few hours ago and kept it up consistently since, passing bottles back and forth as their speech got more slurred and their voices grew louder and louder. About ten minutes ago, they had started smashing empty bottles on the ground and laughing uproariously every time they did. As Tim took another swig from her bottle of Cyberian vodka, the cuts and bruises on her skin from when their playful roughhousing had turned a bit too violent ached in a way that she found strangely pleasant. 

Jonny leaned against Tim, sloshing some gin in her face. Tim let out an annoyed grunt and wiped her face, realizing too late that she was smearing her eyeliner everywhere. She just sighed and took another sip of vodka. 

Jonny finished his bottle of gin, then looked to her and grinned. “Watch this.” He stumbled across the kitchen, glass crunching under his boots as he did, and set it down on the counter. Staggering back, he grabbed his laser pistol from his belt and shot at it. It exploded beautifully. Tim and Jonny both let out loud, long laughs that echoed through the room. 

Tim finished her bottle and reared her hand back, aiming it at the door. Jonny laughed. Tim threw the bottle, joining Jonny in his laughter. 

And then, as the door slid open, they both stopped laughing. 

Nastya let out a yell and ducked, just barely avoiding the bottle. It smashed against the wall behind her. Jonny and Tim both stood very, very still as Nastya stood up. Tim was expecting to see anger in Nastya’s face, but what she saw was a hundred thousand times worse. She looked terrified. Jonny immediately dropped his pistol on the ground. 

“Can you two please calm down a little?” she asked, voice small and trembling. “I can hear you from my workshop, and you’re scaring me.”

Guilt flooded Jonny’s face, but Tim barely noticed, wide eyes locked on the ground.

_ Tim laughed, taking another sip of cheap, shitty vodka that someone’s 19-year-old brother had purchased for the party. Bertie had spent the entire party glued to Tim’s side as closely as possible, but that was getting harder the drunker and rowdier that Tim got. As all of the drunk people in the room (read: most of them) increased their speaking levels to yelling without realizing how loud they were getting, the volume in the room had raised to levels unbearable to anyone not presently intoxicated. One of Tim’s friends came up and punched her in the arm, and she laughed and punched him back. They continued like that for several minutes, stopping only when one of Tim’s punches landed too hard and she gave him a bloody nose. He laughed it off, but went to sit off to the side until the bleeding stopped. _

_ Tim felt someone tugging on her sleeve. She turned around, blinking to try to focus her gaze, and found Bertie staring up at her with wide eyes. “Bertie?” Tim set her cup on the table next to her and gently placed her hand on Bertie’s arm, rubbing up and down. “What’s wrong?” _

_ “Do you think you could try to calm down a little?” Bertie asked quietly. “You’re scaring me.” _

“I’m sorry, Nastya,” Jonny said, with that sincerity in his voice that Tim rarely heard him use for anyone else. He began approaching her slowly, step by step, giving her plenty of time to back up or leave. When he reached her without her moving at all, he slowly opened his arms. Nastya leaned down, embracing him. “I’m sorry,” Tim heard him mutter again. The two of them began speaking quietly to each other, too quietly for Tim to hear. 

Tim just remained frozen in place on the bench, unable to move or speak or do fucking anything. The more she sat there, the angrier she got at herself—Nastya was upset! Because of something she did! She should be comforting her! But she just sat there, frozen

After a few minutes of Jonny and Nastya speaking to each other, Jonny turned around and stared at Tim expectantly. Tim jumped up, finding her legs suddenly able to move again. She walked up, slowly. When she reached Nastya, she put a hand on her shoulder. Nastya leaned in. “I’m sorry, Nastya,” Tim said quietly.

Nastya nodded, but she still looked like any loud noises or sudden movements could provoke tears. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I think I’m going to go lie down for a while.”

“Alright, Nastya,” Jonny said. He tugged her down to his level to kiss her on the forehead. She smiled at both of them, just a little, before turning and walking away. 

Tim exhaled, leaning against the wall. “I think we should be done for the night,” she said quietly. 

Jonny nodded. “Yeah. Maybe we should both go sleep this off.”

Tim was about to agree, but a glance back into the kitchen stopped her. She sighed. “We shouldn’t leave the kitchen covered in glass. C’mon, grab a broom.” Jonny groaned, but followed Tim back into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen still looked like a tornado had ripped through it, but it was at least not covered in broken glass. They decided to leave it there for the night, retiring to their separate bedrooms. Tim laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She kept seeing Nastya’s face in her mind, looking at her in fear. Like she thought Tim might hurt her. 

Tim rolled over and groaned into her pillow. She was still far, far too drunk for this. The best course of action was likely to just sleep it off. She curled up tight, trying to stop picturing Nastya’s face. After about half an hour of trying, she finally managed to pass into a fitful sleep. 

The issue with falling asleep before 7:00pm, of course, is that you wake up very, very early in the morning. After a night of tossing and turning and horrible, violent dreams, Tim woke with a start. She glanced over at the clock. 3:37am. She groaned and rolled over, trying to fall back asleep.

No luck. She sighed and sat up, pulling some sweatpants on over her underwear and grabbing her guitar. Sound travelled easily in the Aurora, but she knew from experience that the living room was far enough from the occupied bedrooms that quiet guitar playing wouldn’t wake anyone. She made her way there, yawning a few times as she went. 

When she arrived to the living room, the Aurora’s resident cyborg was curled up on one end of a couch with a blanket over her lap, a book in her hands, and a cup of tea on the table next to her. Tim hovered in the doorway, body tense, not wanting to startle Nastya. 

“Good morning, Tim.”

Tim’s shoulders relaxed as she walked into the room and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Hey,” she said softly. “What’s got you up so early?”

Nastya sighed, setting her book in her lap. “I fell asleep shortly after… what happened last night, so I just woke up a little while ago. You?”

“Same.” Tim gestured to her guitar. “Mind if I play a little?” Nastya shook her head. Tim began strumming, playing random chords for a few moments before settling into a song she had written years ago. She glanced over to Nastya and saw that she seemed to be getting more comfortable as Tim played, posture relaxing and eyes occasionally drifting closed. Tim smiled to herself and began singing softly. 

As soon as the song finished, she went into every other song she had written that she could still remember. When she ran out of those, she went straight into songs she had learned on Earth. The simple songs she had learned when she was just starting to play as a teenager, the indie pop songs she had picked up because she thought it would make her seem cool at parties. The folk songs she had taught herself because Bertie loved them and she wanted to make him smile.

When she had run out of songs and her fingers were too sore to continue, she sighed and set her guitar down. At the sound of the guitar hitting the metal floor, Nastya stirred and yawned. “Did I fall asleep?”

Tim looked over and bit down a smile at Nastya’s appearance. Her blue hair was all ruffled, sticking up every which way; blankets were piled around her like a nest as she stared at Tim, squinting to see her without her glasses. “Yeah,” Tim got out after a moment. 

Nastya yawned again. “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t be. I’m glad you got some more rest.”

Nastya smiled over at Tim, and Tim’s heart raced. Nastya looked back down to her lap, picking up her book again. They passed a moment in silence before Tim spoke, voice soft. “Nastya?”

Nastya looked up from her book. “Yes?”

Tim took in a slow, deep breath. “I’m sorry for earlier. Really sorry.”

A beat passed. Nastya let out a long breath. “Thank you, Tim. I appreciate it.”

Another moment passed before Tim charged ahead, mouth opening before she could question whether she should keep going or not. “You looked so terrified, and I just—I never want you to have to feel like that around me. I want to protect you. I want you to feel safe around me.”

Nastya looked over and gave Tim a small smile. She set her book down on the side table and moved closer to Tim, putting a hand on her knee. “I do. I do feel safe around you. It’s just…” She withdrew her hand, wrapping her arms around herself. Tim moved closer and held an arm out. Nastya moved over until she was pressed against Tim, nestling against her side as Tim wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “When I hear yelling and glass smashing like that, sometimes it just—it reminds me of the day I died.”

Tim inhaled sharply. “Fuck.”

“I… I knew there had been protests outside, and I thought everything was going to be fine, but I also knew things were getting intense. So I had been in my room, playing my violin to try to calm down, and then I began to hear…” She took in a deep breath as her voice began to shake. “Screaming, shouting. Cries of pain. Shattering glass. I curled up in my wardrobe, but I could still hear everything. It was so awful. I was so, so scared. And sometimes when I hear sounds like that, it just… it takes me right back there. I feel like the scared girl curled up in her wardrobe again.”

Tim squeezed Nastya tight against her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I’ll be more careful, okay?”

Nastya nodded. “Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Hm.” Nastya paused, staring off. Tim couldn’t tell if she was running a diagnostic check, or just taking a moment to think. “I am now,” she said after a moment. “I’ll be okay.”

Tim pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Good.”

“Are you okay? You seemed a bit… freaked out, I guess. When it was happening.”

“Ah. Well.” Tim sighed. “I guess it dragged up some bad memories for me, too.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“It’s alright. I’m okay.” They sat in silence for a minute or two before Tim quietly said, “I… I’ve changed a lot over the past several years. Not just since being here, but since the start of the war. You know, if you would believe it, I used to be somewhat of a pacifist.” She laughed. “Bertie even got me to help him organize some anti-war protests. I got a little rowdy when I was drunk a few times, sure, got into a few friendly tussles, but I completely stopped that after Bertie said it freaked him out. Then I got conscripted, and I went to war, and I just… changed. I couldn’t tell you exactly when it happened—there was no one moment where I was standing in the battlefield and realized I was enjoying it or anything like that. I never enjoyed war, I’m not Jonny. Even after Bertie died and I lost it and started going after everyone I could find, I never enjoyed it.” 

Tim paused. “Or… maybe I did. I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I just know that at some point, it stopped bothering me. And then violence began to feel like second nature. When I realized that, I was a little startled at first—I never thought I’d get to that point. And then I got more and more used to it the more I did it, and now it just feels… fun. Entertaining.” She looked away from Nastya, staring at the wall. “And I can’t bring myself to be bothered by it. I know I should be, but I’m not. I don’t care anymore. But I worry about what I’m becoming, sometimes. I worry that I’m not myself now. Or maybe this is who I’ve always been, and I just didn’t realize it. Maybe, deep down, I’ve always been someone who’s craved violence, and Bertie just held me back. Or maybe I’ve just changed. I honestly don’t know, and I can’t bring myself to care.”

They sat in silence for a few long moments. “I understand,” Nastya said. “I used to be different, too. I hated violence. I couldn’t comprehend how anyone could ever bring themself to kill another person. The first time my mother read me a story where someone was murdered, I cried for hours. I couldn’t understand why anybody would do that.” She let out a short laugh. “And now  _ I  _ kill people, and I don’t care anymore. And the people I’ve chosen as my family do awful things, and I’m fine with it. If someone told me Jonny was evil, I don’t think I’d be able to disagree with them. But I still love him. I don’t know if it’s going through trauma or dying or something about the mechanizing process or if—if I was just secretly always like this and it took dying to bring it out, but… I’m different, too. We all are. I don’t know if any of us can get back to the way we were before. I’m sorry.”

Tim let out a long, slow breath. “That should probably bother me a lot more than it does.”

“Yeah.” Nastya sighed. “Yeah. I understand. But…” She turned, looking up at Tim. “I still like you, you know. I still lo—” she cut herself off, then continued with a slight blush to her cheeks. “Care about you. You’ve changed, but so have I. We all have. And no matter how much we change, we’ve got each other.”

“Thank you.” Tim squeezed her again. “Thank you, Nastya. I… care about you, too.” She pulled back to look at Nastya, letting out a short laugh. “We’re fucked up, but at least we can be fucked up together.”

Nastya laughed. “At least there’s that.” She turned, looking out the window to the sunrise that was slowly creeping up over the edge of the horizon. Tim found herself staring as the sun lit up her blue eyes and illuminated the hair around her face like a halo. Nastya sighed as a small, gentle smile spread over her face. “Maybe that’s enough. Having each other, even if we’re all different. Even if we’re monsters.” 

“Yeah.” A smile crept onto Tim’s face as she stared at Nastya. “I think it is.”

* * *

_ I know the winter's getting colder _ _   
_ _ But why, just 'cause we're a little older do _ _   
_ _ I relive it, I relive it all? _ _   
_ _ I'm pedaling backwards _ _   
_ _ Even if I'm pedaling alone _ _   
_ _ Can't help it _ _   
_ __ I relive it, I relive it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, I'd love to hear it (either in the comments or over on Tumblr). 
> 
> The next and final chapter will be released on August 25th.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at cyberian-demons!


	6. What Lovers Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a quiet moment, Nastya and Tim converse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER! WHOO!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's commented (with a particular shout-out to the amazing people who have commented on every chapter). You're all amazing! Thank you!
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Blood; Canon-Typical Violence; Canon-Typical Temporary Character Death
> 
> Chapter title is from “m’Lover” by Kishi Bashi.

Nastya sat in her bed with a book in her hands, clothed in one of Brian’s sweaters and a pair of Tim’s shorts. She hummed to herself as she flipped through the pages of the book, eyes narrowing and widening as she read through all of the twists and turns within the pages. This corner of the planet they were on was nearly always raining this time of year, and she was certain she’d get tired of it within a few weeks; for now, though, the sound of rain in the background was lovely. 

A knock sounded on the door. Nastya looked up, setting her book on her lap and grabbing her glasses off of her bedside table. “Come in?”

The door slid open to reveal Tim, standing there with a steaming mug in each hand and a quilt tucked under his arm. He raised the mugs, smiling. “Thought you might like some tea. Can I come in?”

Nastya smiled, taking her glasses off again before scooting over to give Tim room. He took a seat next to her, handing her one of the mugs to set on the windowsill before setting his own on the table. As he spread the quilt out over the bed, Nastya hummed and got comfortable under it. “How’d you know I was cold?”

Tim laughed lightly. “It wasn’t hard to guess. You’re always cold.”

“Fair.”

As Tim got into bed next to her, he lifted the blankets off of her, peering beneath them. Nastya pushed the blankets back down as Tim grinned. “You’d probably be warmer if you were wearing pants instead of shorts, princess.”

“I love these shorts!” Nastya crossed her arms. “They’re my favorite shorts.”

“You know, they’re technically my shorts.”

“Irrelevant.” 

Tim snorted, getting settled under the blankets. Nastya leaned over, cuddling up against his side. “How are you doing tonight, Mr. Gunpowder?”

Tim groaned. “God, I can’t believe Jonny is still trying to get me to go by ‘Gunpowder Tim’. And I can’t believe you’re all going along with it!” 

“The audiences seem to love it!”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Yeah, they do.”

Nastya grinned. “I think it’s cute.” 

“Of course you do.” Tim laughed, kissing the top of her head. 

After a moment of silence, Nastya blurted out “Jonny paid us each 500 credits to start calling you Gunpowder Tim.”

“What!”

“I’m sorry, I’m weak. You can buy a lot of electronics for 500 credits.” 

Tim sighed, rolling his head back and staring at the ceiling. He looked back down at Nastya. “Excuse me for a moment?” Nastya nodded. 

Tim stood and left the room. Nastya heard him go into his room next to hers, then leave and continue down the hallway. A moment later, she distantly heard Jonny say, “Oh, hey, Gunpowder T—”, immediately followed by a gunshot. Nastya laughed. 

A few moments passed before Tim came back into her room, dropping a gun off on top of her dresser. “Alright, all done.” Nastya continued to laugh as Tim got back in bed next to her. She curled back up against his side, relaxing against him. As Nastya picked her book back up, Tim looked at it over her shoulder. “What are you reading?”

“A book Ivy picked up for me when she went out earlier today. It’s about a girl who falls in love with a computer.” She sighed. “I’m not entirely understanding it so far. There’s so much drama about how they can’t be together fully because the computer doesn’t have a humanoid form, but I’m not sure why that would stop them.”

Tim grinned. “Yeah, that’s so weird. Would you read some of it to me?”

Nastya looked up at him. “Are your eyes shorting out again?”

“Nah, they’re fine. I just like hearing your voice.”

“Oh!” Nastya smiled, looking back down at the book. “Okay. Let me start from the beginning, I’m only a few chapters in.”

And she did. They sat like that for a few hours, until the sun was long down and Nastya’s narration was starting to be interrupted by periodic yawns. Nastya hadn’t realized she was starting to nod off until Tim’s strong, gentle hands pulled the book from her hands. She jerked up with a yawn. “I’m awake!”

Tim smiled down at her, setting the book on the bedside table. “How about we get some rest, princess?”

Nastya opened her mouth to protest that they were just getting to the good part, but a yawn came out instead. She let out an annoyed grunt, but laid down. “Stay with me?”

“I will.” Tim laid down next to her, opening his arms and letting her curl up against his chest. 

Nastya smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before she said, “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

“No, what?”

“Tomorrow marks two and half years since you’ve been with us.”

“Damn. Time flies.”

Nastya looked up at him, smiling. “Wait until you’ve been alive for over a hundred years. Two and a half years feel like no time at all.”

“I can’t wait until I’ve been able to spend a hundred years with you.” He had a casual smile as he spoke, but his expression was serious and tender and—well, Nastya was tempted to call his expression  _ loving _ . As she had many times over the past two and a half years, Nastya was overcome with the desire to kiss him. She pushed it down.

“I’m glad,” she whispered instead.

Tim reached down, stroking her cheek. They sat like that for a moment, lights dim and the sound of the rain providing their soundtrack. Tim leaned down. Nastya’s heart began to race. Tim paused a few inches from her face, staring into her eyes with a gentle intensity that made Nastya feel like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. “Nastya…” 

It took her a moment to remember how to speak. “Yes?”

Tim took in a deep breath. His hand left her face and reached for her hand, bringing it up to his mouth so he could brush his lips against her knuckles. She felt nearly dizzy. “I… I’m very, very glad I met you, Nastya Rasputina.”

“Romanova,” she breathed out.

Tim smiled, kissing her hand again. “I’m very glad I met you, Nastya Romanova. I…” He chuckled. “I suck at big speeches, big declarations. I’m sorry about that. But I want you to know that meeting you is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. And I…” He took in a deep breath before continuing. “Nastya Romanova, I love you. I’ve loved you for a while now. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Nastya let out a short, breathless laugh. Unable to bear waiting a second longer, she bolted upwards and pressed her mouth to his. He moaned against her mouth, bringing his hand up to her hair and tangling in it, pulling her close. They remained like that for several long, blissful moments before pulling back, resting their foreheads against each other. “I love you, Tim,” she whispered. 

As Tim leaned in to kiss her again, the door banged open. Nastya screamed as a gunshot rang through the room and blood splattered on her from a new wound in Tim’s chest. She jerked around to see Jonny standing there, blood on his forehead, looking horribly smug. “Jonny!” she screeched, throwing her pillow at him. “Why do you have to ruin everything!”

Jonny leaned against the door, smirking. “What, were you two having a moment?”

“Yes!”

“Sorry, princess.”

Nastya rolled her eyes. “Ugh, and you know I hate getting blood on my bed. You have to change my sheets.”

“Fine, fine.” 

Twenty minutes later, Nastya was laying in bed on top of clean sheets and under clean blankets, Tim curled against her chest. She had just started to drift off when Tim stirred in her arms. “Nastya?” he grumbled. “What happened?”

Nastya huffed. “Jonny.”

“Ugh. I’m going to kill him again tomorrow.”

“I’ll help.” Tim looked up at her, and they held each other’s gazes for a moment before bursting into laughter. 

“Well,” Tim said, “Admittedly, I can’t think of any first kiss more stereotypically Mechanisms.”

Nastya laughed again. “I guess you’re right. Kiss me again.”

And he did. And when they fell asleep together a few hours later, naked skin pressed together, their hearts were full and their chests were warm. Two and half years of waiting had been more than worth it. Now, they had eternity together. 

* * *

_ I want to do what lovers do with you _ _  
_ _ I want to walk the edge of the earth with you _ __  
_ I want to say it to you the minute we feel the heat: _ _  
_ __ “Would you be my lover?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE ARE DONE. Thank you SO much to everybody who's read this! I really, really appreciate every hit, kudo, and comment. Thank you! If you enjoyed the fic, I'd love to hear about it either in the comments here or over on Tumblr.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at cyberian-demons!


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